


baking

by donnarafiki



Series: One shots of Drarry in the kitchen [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baking, M/M, One Shot, hope you like it, i was baking myself and just got inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:11:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnarafiki/pseuds/donnarafiki
Summary: Draco just wanted to bake a cake, but when Potter comes in to help, he lets something slip, dragging up painfull memories...





	1. Chapter 1

_ It was just so frustrating. _

Draco was used to being good at cooking, he could make a mean apple pie in minutes granted he could use his wand. Now, however, he was bound to a muggle kitchen for his cookery. A  _ shared  _ muggle kitchen. After the war, the ministry had confiscated all the Malfoy family funds, and he had been forced to live in a tiny muggle flat. 

Now former death eater Draco Malfoy had flour and yolk all over him, yet he couldn’t muster getting the lumps of butter out of his dough.  _ Bloody muggles even manage to ruin baking for me. _ A tired and frustrated sigh left his throat. 

“Don’t let the muggles get you down.”

“What?” 

It was potter. Of course it was Potter. The raven haired man stood in the doorway of the communal kitchen, clearly amusing himself with the sight of a struggling Draco. “Oh, you again. Come to gloat, have you?”

Potter and his friends had taken the flat above his, to rub their fame and fortune in his face, Draco suspected.  _ Now they can look at their favorite charity case on a daily basis. _

Draco tried to keep the hurt and humiliation from his voice. He owed Potter his freedom, his living space, his internship at the Scamander Institute, heck, even his life he owed to Potter. After all he’d been through, Draco had longed for freedom, for no one telling him what to do, for a place filled with peace and quiet. But just like all the other things Draco had ever truly hoped for, it hadn’t come true. 

Potter pushed himself from the wall. “It’s a thing Ron used to say, before he discovered muggle music.” The man fought to keep the smile from his face while walking towards the blond. Malfoy looked criminally hot in an apron.

“I used to do all the cooking when I lived at the Dursleys.” Potter took the bowl with batter from the counter and worked it with what had to be magic. In under a minute his hands turned the previously lumpy stuff in a substance as smooth as a mirror.

“How..” Draco couldn’t form a full sentence while in full view of potters biceps, tensing and relaxing faster and faster. It wasn’t fair that Potter was so bloody fit. He was already famous, rich, loved and an uncommonly nice person, why did he need to be hot too? 

“If I was too slow they would lock me up in my cupboard without supper, so I learned how to speed up quite fast.” Suddenly Potter realised what he’d just admitted to, his cheeks flashed with red. “Uhm, I mean my room without dessert of course, living in a cupboard would be riddikulus…”

The attempt to laugh away his words failed. Draco recognised the memory of a traumatizing experience immediately. In the way Potter held himself, his tense shoulders, dilated pupils, flaring nostrils. He didn’t need to know the details of this cupboard to see it had been far from pleasant.

Potter humourless laugh did nothing to remove the hurt in his emerald eyes, and now his dough covered hands gripped the bowl so tightly the edges cut his skin. Tiny scarlet droplets trickled from the sides. Far from pleasant did not cover how Potter felt about this cupboard, apparently. He was properly scared shitless just thinking about it.  _ Who did this to you Harry? _

With the distress radiating of the man, Draco could not possibly keep calling him Potter. Slowly his bony white hands pried Harry’s fingers from the bowl. He’d never before touched Harry’s skin, or anyone’s skin, like this. Calm, caring, maybe even loving. Draco had made all the wrong choices, but this man never had a choice at all. 

“It’s okay.” Draco stroked Harry’s back. He didn’t recall making that decision, he’d never be that bald, but Harry visibly relaxed under his touch so he didn’t stop. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It isn’t. It never will be.” Harry’s voice was just a whisper, broken by tears. All words left unspoken between them now somehow seemed understood.

“I know.” Even the Malfoy mask could not stop the tears glistening in Draco’s eyes. “But it’s what people say, isn’t it?”


	2. part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a bit longer than expected, sorry. hope you'll like it!

Harry and Draco were still standing in the kitchen, one of Harry’s hands entwined in Draco’s blond, gorgeous hair. The sheer perfection hair could reach was astounding to the man who’d never even tried to comb the mess on his own head, let alone model it.

“I ruined your batter.” 

“And my coiffure, I might add.” The slightly snarky tone was not missed on Harry’s side, and a wave of embarrassment washed over him.  _ What the hell am I doing? You can’t barely talk to your nemesis for months and then fall into his arms, crying over childhood trauma. Get it together Potter. _

“Sorry, Malfoy, I wasn’t...” Harry tried to pull away. Surprisingly strong arms wrapped around him not just for back-rubbing this time, but in full on chest squeezing hug mode. No way in hell was he getting out of this.

“Oh, shut up, Potter. I bloody well don’t have anything better to do in this hell hole then study, bake, do my hair and as of now hug you.” This statement in combination with the actions of its speaker took Harry completely by surprise, just as the sudden wave of emotions had only minutes before. He did not believe the Malfoy he knew from Hogwarts would ever hug him, or anyone else for that matter. It made him a bit uncomfortable, because he didn’t know how to handle him now.  _ Heck, I don’t even know how to handle myself, why would I know how to handle Malfoy? _

Said Malfoy was not entirely sure how to handle himself either. He lived on his own in a tiny flat with only piles and piles of books he nicked from the manor as company. Both Pansy and Blaise had left for Italy to escape the judgemental stares but getting a visa was impossible for an ex-death eater. Sure, they wrote often enough, but it had been weeks since Draco had any physical contact besides brushing past people on his way to the Scamander Institute. A place he hadn’t been to for almost two months now because the practical part of his potions degree was done. When he came to think of it, with the other inhabitant of the building doing the shopping, he hadn’t even left his flat for over seven weeks now.

Suddenly Harry blurted out. “Frederick the second.”

“What?” It was the most random thing Draco had ever heard, and he was slightly offended Potter seemed to think it was okay to disturb this moment of peace and tranquillity with random terms.

“Frederick the second discovered baby’s die if they don’t get physical attention.”

Draco was now definitely offended. “Are you calling me a baby? Because if you are,” and now it was Draco who tried to free himself from the other man, “I don’t appreciate…”

“No, no, no, no, that’s not what I meant.” Harry was now flustered more of embarrassment that tears. “I was trying to explain to myself why you would hug me.” His voice was reduced to a whisper again. “I think he might need it” 

Harry had said that last bit more to himself than to the other man, his forehead leaning heavily on Draco’s shoulder. The kitchen floor had no eyes to judge him and he didn’t think he could handle judgement at the moment. “It was the first time I realised my aunt and uncle were not treating me like they should. When my teacher from primary school told me about this experiment where they tried to bring up baby’s without the slightest bit of affection. They all died of neglect.” A deep, sad sigh escaped Harry’s throat. “I would hate to see you die of neglect, Malfoy.”

Draco froze. _Was Harry trying to save him? Again?_ _By_ hugging _him?_

He didn’t need saving, he… Thoughts stopped dead in their tracks.  _ Self centered narcissist. Harry literally just told you he grew up ‘without the slightest bit of affection’. _

“That’s pretty fucked up Harry.” His first name slipped out before Draco noticed, and now there was no way back. Harry flinched. He went a bit limp, it seemed. The man had always had a strong reaction to his first name.

“I think you could say that…” Somehow Harry still managed to smile into Draco’s shirt, a place he was still pushed against because Draco was now more holding than hugging him. The bizarreness of the situation only doomed on the man now. 

“I guess you really needed to get that of your chest if it’s me you’re telling these things to now.”

The dark haired man nuzzled his neck, his weight slowly shifting from Draco to his own feet. “I can never tell Ron and Hermione. They’re so happy together, I don’t want to put a damper on their spirits. I don’t want them to treat me like a beaten up puppy again. I hate that.”

Draco snorted. What a different world this golden boy lived in, afraid he would worry his friends, afraid they would care too much. “If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t planning on treating you like a puppy any time soon. Beaten up or not. I’m not a great fan of dogs.”

“Are you saying that you are a great fan of me?” Potter looked up from Draco’s shirt, eyes red from crying yet somehow already showing a spark of joy. A small, cheeky smile on his lips.

“Oh, shut up Potter.” To his embarrassment Draco felt heat rise up to his cheeks. This is not how he’d expected his afternoon to go. A true smile now showed on Harry’s face, and he hugged Draco back again. Much less an act of despair, now more an act of… An act of…

“You’re a surprisingly good hugger Malfoy.”

Draco had very much enjoyed the happiness on Harry’s face before. He had no objections to seeing it again. 

“You’ll find I’m a quite adequate kisser too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coiffure is a fansy french ish word for hairdo, it sounded like something draco would say. also the experiment mentioned did actually take place (according to the log books anyway) in the middle ages by the emperor of the holy roman empire frederick the second. look him up, he's quite interesting. (I'll hide my inner nerd away now, don't worry)

**Author's Note:**

> soooo... this was just a one time thing, but if you want me to write a pt 2 i'd be more than happy to oblige, just leave kudos or a comment (or both, id love you forever)  
> my appologies for posible english mistakes, im not native to the language


End file.
